Human Nature
by Psalm 136
Summary: We all must make sacrifices to do good, and some include delivering a lamb into the arms of the wolf. Martouf must make this sacrifice, but that lamb might survive, if the heart bred on Earth is one of indomitable strength. Paul Davis, Team, Martouf.
1. Disappearance

Human Nature

Psalm 136

Stargate: SG-1

Drama/General

Paul Davis, Martouf, Team

We all must make sacrifices to do good, and some include delivering a lamb into the arms of the wolf. Martouf must make this sacrifice, but that lamb might have the heart of a warrior and might survive, depending on the strength of human nature and on the heart of freedom bred on Earth.

Author's Notes: I have, for the longest time, wanted to write a story about Paul Davis, as he is my favorite secondary character in SG-1, and I've also wanted to write a story about Martouf. Hence, this story. This story will actually revolve around my character, Danielle Davis, Paul's eldest daughter. I know, I know, just wait a minute before you turn back. Danielle will not be a Mary Sue. That, I can promise you. Just give this story a chance - you might be pleasantly surprised. Thematically, I want to focus on human nature and the strength of people from Earth. If put under pressure, will a human bend or break? Can a human remain strong in the face of great opposition and survive? Can a human continue to hope, even when surrounded on all sides by enemies? This is what I want to explore.

**...**

"Don't even think about it."

Paul Davis eyed the strawberry smoothie enviously. He could see beads of condensation dribbling down the sides of the plastic cup. He could almost taste its deliciousness from where he was standing. He coveted it. He _wanted_ it. It should have been his.

And yet this woman, this witch, was denying him. He reached for the cup again, watching her face and her closed eyes. Maybe if he was really quiet...

"I warned you," Lacey Davis opened her eyes and slapped her husband's hand away. "It's my strawberry smoothie," she asserted as she reached over to save her smoothie from her husband's questing hands. Putting her lips around her straw, she took a long drink and sighed happily. "Mmm. Delicious."

"Shrew," he accused her playfully, but leaned down to kiss her lips, savoring the strawberry taste. "I missed you," he told her with a fond smile, drawing away to see her eyes twinkling.

"I missed you, too, _Lieutenant Colonel_," she responded, sexily placing emphasis on his new rank, causing a smile to flash across his face. "How was work?"

"Oh, it was fine," he shrugged, sitting on the porch chair next to Lacey, threading his fingers through hers, letting out a groan of pleasure as he sat on the wonderfully comfortable cushion. "Ah, my day is looking up already," he told her with a smile.

Lacey raised her eyebrows. "Oh, really?" she asked, moving from her chair to sit on his lap, surveying her husband's ruggedly handsome face.

"Even better," he grinned and kissed her cheek. He really was glad to see her.

He had been deployed to Iraq in the early nineties, and he hadn't seen her, then, for almost two years. Their youngest daughter, Alice, had been born during that time, and he had missed it. With his other posts around the country, it had been a rare thing for him to return home at a regular time every night. But now he was working at the Pentagon, and except for the occasional late meeting or trip to Colorado, he was home on time every night. He loved it - he got to see his family - and she loved it, too, because she got to see him. Their daughters, Danielle and Alice, who had spent most of their childhood's missing their father and worrying for his safety, couldn't help but be content with the arrangement as well.

And the fact he had some shiny birds on his lapels was just a bonus. A really, really lovely bonus.

"Uh, Colonel Davis? Mrs. Davis?" came a teenager's voice from the lawn.

Lacey stood up and turned around, Paul remaining in his seat. Lacey greeted the boy, Alan Gregory, with a smile. "Hello, Alan," she said to her eldest daughter's boyfriend with genuine friendliness. For as awkward as the young man could be, he was a good person, and Lacey wanted that for her daughter. He made her daughter happy, and both Paul and Lacey couldn't help but love him for it. "I thought Danielle was supposed to meet you," she stated questioningly.

Alan shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, she was," he affirmed. "Three hours ago."

"What?" Paul asked. It wasn't like Danielle to be late, ever, to anything. Much less to meet her boyfriend.

"Yeah," Alan shrugged. "So I came looking for her, here. I already tried the library and the park, because she runs there a lot, and the grocery store. I don't know where she is, she isn't answering her phone - I called and texted - and I'm really worried."

The warm glow of the day, of returning home to his beautiful wife at a reasonable hour, was shattered. Paul got up out of his chair and walked down the front steps to Alan's side, followed by Lacey. "When was she supposed to meet you?" he asked casually, trying to rein in his growing panic as to not scare the younger man.

"Two o'clock, at Starbucks, just as we usually do," Alan responded, fidgeting.

Paul's voice was calm and assuring, the product of years of experience in leading men into battle and leading men through the messy quagmire the political arena could be. "And when was the last time you and Danielle called or texted?"

Alan thought for a moment, but he ended up fishing for his cell phone in his pocket. He fiddled with it for a few moments, and then looked up at his girlfriend's father. "It was at noon. I had wanted to make sure we were meeting at two, and that she'd be driving, and I wouldn't be picking her up."

Lacey slipped her hand into Paul's worriedly. "I haven't seen her since one P.M.," she said. "She picked Alice up from a friend's house and had told me she was going to go running."

"Well, that's four hours since anyone's heard from her," Alan's voice was quickly becoming higher-pitched and steeped with worry. He and Danielle were very close.

"Calm down, Alan," Paul said as he set a hand on the young man's shoulder, putting on his officer's mask. He knew Lacey could see through it, could see the worry and fear in his green eyes, but Alan wouldn't, and that was what was important. "I'm sure there's a good reason why she didn't meet you. Something might have come up with one of her friends."

"Well," Alan swallowed. "That kind of thing's happened before. She always texts me or calls me to tell me. Always."

"I know," Paul said. "But there's no need to go out of our minds with worry. We'll wait until the morning, to see if she comes home, and then we'll alert the authorities. I don't want to start a search party for nothing if she just needed to go to Roanoke to see a friend. But we'll keep trying to contact her in the meantime," he decided, Lacey squeezing his hand and nodding to show her consent. "Would you like to stay over until Danielle comes home?" he asked Alan.

Alan hesitated. Lacey smiled. "I'm making spaghetti," she said.

The young man grinned weakly. "Okay. I don't want to impose..."

"Come on in," Paul invited, guiding his daughter's boyfriend up the front steps and into the house. Alice came bounding down the stairs with an exuberant cry of, "ALAN!" and Paul let out a breath. The two would be amused with each other's company for at least a moment.

"Lace," he murmured, catching her hand in his and squeezing tightly.

"Paul," she whispered back. "I'm so scared. What if she isn't okay? What if..."

"Everything will be fine," he said, trying to convince himself and his wife. "Everything will be fine. If she doesn't come home tonight, I swear to God, I'll have the entire police force and the entire **Air Force** out to find her. Everything will be fine."

Lacey nodded into his shoulder. "Okay," she replied. "I hope so."

…

Alice bustled around the kitchen, nearly skipping, as she fetched a glass of water for Alan, her sister's boyfriend. He was a nice enough guy, and he definitely made Danielle giggle in a way Alice hadn't heard from her in a while, and so Alice had taken to him like a duck takes to water. And he was funny and could tell a great Chuck Norris joke.

"Oh, and Alice," Alan called from the kitchen table. "If you have five dollars, and Chuck Norris has five dollars… Chuck Norris has more money than you."

Alice snorted as she brought Alan's water back. "Got anything better than that?"

"Oh!" Alan recalled as he took a sip of water, glad for the distraction of his girlfriend's little sister. "A group of people received a blood transfusion from Chuck Norris. They are now known as the X-Men."

Alice was sent into a flurry of giggles. When she recovered, she looked at Alan questioningly. "Why are you here, by the way?" she asked. "Not to sound rude or anything, but I thought you and Dannie were meeting today."

She looked up when she heard her parents' footsteps on the hardwood floors. "Hey, Dad," she greeted with a smile.

"Hey, Ally," he returned, his face grim.

Alice flinched slightly. Her father had always appeared so youthful and cheerful all of the time, except when he was talking about work. Maybe something had happened? She didn't know, and she probably wouldn't find out, ever. But she'd sort of made her peace with 'classified.' Except when it drove her father to not sleep for days as he waited anxiously by the phone for a call that only sometimes came, and he couldn't even tell his own wife.

"What's wrong?" she asked hesitantly, glancing back to Alan and to her mother, eyes wide.

"Honey," her mother said, touching Paul's hand before going to her daughter. "We don't know where Danielle is. She didn't come to meet Alan like she was supposed to, and we haven't been able to get a hold of her. But we're sure that she'd just off somewhere, taking care of something, and she hasn't had the time to tell anyone where she is. Everything's fine, deary."

Alice's eyes widened, but she took a deep breath and put on a brave face for her parents. "Okay," she agreed. Except her heart was thudding painfully in her chest. "I'm sure she's fine. Probably just freaking out because she has to leave in two weeks for the Academy," she offered, and Alan managed to smile slightly, trying to believe her. Alice smiled back.

"Yeah," Paul's voice was slightly lighter. He remembered a time when he'd disappeared for nearly three days because he'd been so scared of how his life was going to change. None of his family had ever been in the military before, and the thought of being an officer and going into battle was horrifying. He wished Danielle would have her breakdown at home, where he could talk to her, but the fear and doubt was something she needed to deal with on her own. She'd be back, sooner or later.

"Honey," he touched Lacey's shoulder. "I'm going to get out of my uniform."

"Okay," she replied sweetly. "Alice, Alan, would you like to help me with dinner?"

Alice rolled her eyes and stood up. "Translation: help me or I'll lop your head off."

Alan laughed as Lacey forced a smile for the children and said, "That's correct. Set the table, Alice."

"Yes, Mom," Alice grumbled and went to the cupboards to get the plates and glasses.

**...**

Author's Notes: So, what do you think? We'll get to Martouf next chapter, and we'll get to see exactly what's happened to Danielle. I really hope this story has intrigued you. If it has, or even if it has only mildly piqued your interest, I'd love to hear from you - maybe suggestions, ideas, comments, or even predictions? Just anything you have to say, I'd like to hear. Flames are accepted, because they only bump up my review count. Cheers!


	2. The Rape of Earth

Author's Notes: Okay, here's chapter two. We get a glimpse of our Goa'uld friend and of Martouf and Danielle. What exactly is going on here? Why was Danielle taken? Does Martouf have anything to do with it? And also, we get a greater understanding of who Danielle is and what's important to her and what's on her mind. I'm already working on chapter six, so I'm very excited about this story. I hope you are as well, and I definitely hope you'll comment and tell me what you think, whether it's good or bad or somewhat neutral.

**...**

Unbeknownst to NASA and Earth's Air Forces, a single Goa'uld mothership hovered ominously outside of the solar system. It had been there for a while, monitoring the famous planet that had been the cause for many a downfall of a System Lord. Such a little place. So insignificant, it was, in comparison to the rest of the universe that threatened to engulf it. And the Goa'uld in residence on the mothership was determined to be its destruction.

Unfortunately, she was not a System Lord. She was powerful, in her own right, but she had been struggling to gain more power over the last several thousand years. Still, despite her manipulation and her threats and her open war, she was a minor Goa'uld. That, however, she felt, was about to change. Though Osiris had rejected her for his queen (and she sneered to even think of him), she would soon learn the secrets of the Tau'ri and bend them to her will. Then the System Lords would see her strength.

But **how** would she learn their secrets?

She knew better than most that the true strength of the Tau'ri was not in their weapons. Their technology was primitive in comparison to the magic of the Goa'uld. Their number of military personnel was too few to pose any real danger when it came to invasion. If victories were decided by mere facts such as these, the Tau'ri should not have even overthrown Ra and his followers. Yet they had, and they were slowly destroying the System Lords one by one.

She knew it was something about who they were as humans, lowly creatures that they were. She was not too proud to admit they frightened her, but she remained calm. When she found out what it was that set these humans apart from the other slaves around the galaxy, she would find out how to break it and therefore know how to destroy the Tau'ri, and she would be able to take their world for her own and feast on its succulence.

Having such delightful slaves to break and bring to heel would be lovely.

Isis, the goddess of motherhood and fertility, smirked to herself as she called her second in command forward with a beckoning of her hand. The sandy blond headed man moved from his position against the left wall to directly in front of her. She looked him over with a critical eye, finding pleasure in his lean but muscular form, in his sharp blue eyes that could charm without a word, in his utter ruthlessness that became apparent when he was not pleased. He was absolutely perfect as her second. When she became the queen of the Goa'uld, he would be her king.

"Telek," she addressed him in a low, seductive voice, the blue eyes of her host glinting in the soft candlelight that illuminated her and her throne.

"Yes, my queen," he responded, bowing low at the waist, his eyes flashing as the Goa'uld inside of him flaunted its ownership of its host.

"Go to the planet of the Tau'ri," she ordered lazily. "Pick me a human, any one you wish, from the land of the ones who have tormented the System Lords the most, and bring it here to me."

If Telek was surprised by such an order, he did not show it. He merely bowed once again, as a good servant should, and said, "I will return within the hour, my queen."

"Good, Telek," she purred, her eyes glowing. "You shall be rewarded generously for this service to your goddess."

"I am not worthy," Telek said, his face still blank. "But I thank you."

"Go," she bid him from her throne, vainly playing with a strand of her host's gloriously blonde hair. Oh, what a delightful game this would be.

…

Despite what Isis thought, Telek did not consider her a goddess or even a queen. Neither was he a perfectly obedient or loyal servant. His name was not even Telek. It was Martouf, and he was a Tok'ra.

He had been sent on this mission, as the Tok'ra had identified Isis as a possible threat and had decided to neutralize it before her power was too great and her numbers too large. His objective was to gain her trust, glean what information he could from the situation, and, when he felt the time was right, kill her. So far, everything was going exceedingly well. However, her last order to him did not sit well in his stomach.

Martouf gritted his teeth as he flew his cloaked tel'tak towards Earth. This was no mere betrayal he was doing his friends, the Tau'ri. It was a **rape** of their world. He would soon choose one of their own to be tortured and administered unthinkable pain. He knew exactly what lay ahead of the poor soul he abducted.

He could already hear echoes of the screams the victim he would choose would let out. He could already see the sickeningly crimson blood that would stain his clothes and his heart until his death. Already, he saw the broken body resurrected by the sarcophagus, and he could already see the despair in the abducted's eyes when he or she finally understood there would be no end to the suffering until Isis chose to end it.

Isis did, after all, have a particular fondness for _**slowly**_ destroying souls.

_Calm, Martouf,_ Lantash whispered, buoying Martouf's fading strength with a rush of warmth and love. _There is no other way. We must do as Isis says. This will be one life only. One life for billions. It is regrettable, but it is a worthy trade if that one life will end to save __**billions**__._

Still, it didn't sit well with Martouf, and it didn't sit well with Lantash, either. Though his symbiote was hundreds of years old, Lantash still cringed and felt great pain whenever he had to commit atrocities while performing his duty. Until a few years ago, this burden had been made bearable by the existence of Jolinar and Rosha. Since their deaths, everything, **everything**, had become more difficult.

Suppressing his grief, Martouf forced himself to think of the present moment and of what he had to do. He was only glad that he had decided to only bring one Jaffa guard. If he had to go to Earth to take one of its children, he would not endanger the rest of the planet by bringing Jaffa who were more than willing to cause Earth's inhabitants harm.

It was the least he could do.

…

Trees and plants and flowers of every color flourished in one of the many parks in Virginia. It was a favorite spot of the townspeople when the sun was shining and there were no frivolous tasks to occupy their hours. Children played enthusiastically on the recently built playset while parents observed from the nearby benches. Pairs and trios of children broke off to reenact scenes from their favorite movies, providing their own sound effects and using sticks and stones for guns and science-fiction technology, while others occupied themselves with the swings or the monkey bars.

In other parts of the park, couples met to picnic or to merely sit on the grass in each other's presence. Groups of teenagers congregated and laughed over the drama their friends were engaged in and even argued about if, in fact, Christian Bale was more intense as Batman than George Clooney.

Bikers pedaled down the paths, carefully weaving around walkers and joggers and even the occasional roller-blader. The sound of laughter and happiness shimmered everywhere when it was sunny, as it was on this particular day, and in this particular park, Danielle Davis found herself at one-thirty in the afternoon.

After dropping off her little sister at home, she found herself with nearly an hour until she needed to meet her boyfriend, and somehow, driving by the park had drawn her to it. It wasn't the usual one she frequented, but for whatever reason, she felt like she needed to sit outside to take a few breaths.

Danielle surveyed her surroundings curiously from where she sat on a bench. She let out a yawn and stretched her legs out, crossing them at the ankle. It was such a beautiful day to be sitting in the shade. She wouldn't have this for much longer, she knew. She wasn't sure Colorado had such a nice climate as Virginia.

Ugh, she sighed, the thought twisting her gut, Colorado.

It wasn't that she didn't want to go to Colorado or that her parents were pressuring her to go to the Air Force Academy. No, that had been entirely her idea and her dream since she had been eleven years old. But for so long, it had seemed so far away. For years, high school graduation had seemed a million years off. But now that she had graduated and she only had a few weeks until her plane ride to Colorado… it was all hitting her, and it was hard to take.

She was used to moving around. Lord knew she'd done enough of that throughout her childhood as her father had been transferred to this base or to that. But finally, they'd managed to settle down with her father's job at the Pentagon, when he'd been promoted to a position in the office of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. She'd actually attended the same school for all four of her high school years! She was really getting used to living in the same house on the same street, surrounded by the same people all of the time.

She loved the stability! She loved not wondering if she'd make new friends or crying over the stress of having to go to a new school. She adored not having to learn a whole new city. She just loved not having to always make changes. It was so nice not to have to. But now she was going to do it all again, and this was so much bigger than any change she'd ever made before. This was college. And it wasn't just college; it was the Air Force Academy. All of her dreams culminated to this point. This was where all of her hard work and planning paid off.

It had been worth it, though. As stressed as she was because she was leaving the place she finally could call home, it would be worth it, and all of the work she had put into getting accepted to the Academy had been worth it, too.

Still, she didn't really want to leave home. She loved being home. She liked waking up in **her** bed and always seeing her sister and her mother and her dad. She liked being close to her boyfriend, Alan. She'd miss him, too, she thought a little tearfully.

Danielle took a deep breath and let it out slowly, shaking her head. She needed to take a walk and clear her head, get all of the thoughts out so she could actually have fun with Alan and not be distracted. She got up and dusted the seat of her jeans off and left the concrete path, preferring to go on one of the dirt ones that went into the forested area behind her.

What also was freaking her out was how permanent going to the Academy was. Most of her friends were going to normal universities where a student could transfer to another one or pick a different career path. She couldn't. While she was at the Academy, she would become an Air Force officer for at least several years after graduating. But she did want to be an officer. That was what she had wanted for a long time. There was nothing else she wanted to do. But still, what if she changed her mind? What if she didn't want to serve in the military, once she realized what military life really was?

Danielle raked her fingers through her hair anxiously.

Except she knew there was nothing else she wanted to do. She was excited, after all. Underneath all of the stress and the fear and the fear and the stress and the terror. She was excited. She wouldn't just be studying to find a career at the Academy. She'd be studying to serve her country, to fight for her country, to defend everyone she knew and loved. It would be hard, but it was such a worthy goal.

She smiled slightly to herself. Yeah, there was no question about it: this was her path.

Still, though. She had done research and drilled her father and several of his colleagues. She knew exactly what lay in front of her. It was going to be the hardest thing she had ever done before. It would be difficult. The thought of exactly how hard it would be to survive the Academy scared her a little bit. Not even just a little bit. It scared the crap out of her.

"Oh, my God," she muttered to herself reproachfully. "I'm going to go nuts before I even get there," she sighed, continuing to walk deeper into the forested area. She glanced at her watch. She had twenty minutes before she needed to meet Alan. She'd have to turn back soon.

Turning left at the next intersection of paths she came to, Danielle kicked a small rock in front of her like it was a soccer ball. She used the side of her foot to urge it onwards and sighed when it clattered against another stone and was catapulted off of the path.

Danielle kept walking for five more minutes but then paused. She stood completely still and half-closed her eyes. She could have sworn she heard something. A shudder crashed through her, and she grimaced. She had the horrible feeling that someone had just walked over her grave or something. She looked into the trees surrounding the path she was on. Maybe she should turn around and go back… she was pretty far away from the crowds.

She suddenly looked over her shoulder but saw nothing. Why was she being so paranoid? Danielle mentally slapped herself and then turned around. She should probably get to Starbucks early anyway and order a drink for herself and Alan. With the intention of texting him and asking him what he wanted, she pulled out her cell phone.

She had already forgotten the feeling that someone was watching her before she was five steps away, and she was determined to put all of her stresses away for later when she could talk to her dad about it and he could –

Danielle let out a strangled, horrible scream when pain exploded in her side, as though her ribs were being disintegrated, and she was suddenly thrown forward. Her face and arms were scraped as she skidded to a stop. She numbly heard her cell phone clattering against some exposed rock as it rolled away from her; she had lost her grip on it when she had been flying through the air.

Strong arms lifted it from the ground, aggravating the wound that had been created on her side, and she let out a garbled sound of pain. Darkness was starting to overtake her vision, and the last thing she saw was the ground as she was carried away.

…

Paul stalked up and down the living room, looking out the front window every five seconds, expecting to see Danielle's headlights as she pulled into the driveway. The house phone was clutched in his left hand, and with every passing moment, he was more ready to call the cops than he had been before. That girl was going to get it, he decided furiously. He thought he and Lacey had taught their girls better; you always call if you aren't going to be able to meet someone. You always call if you're going to be out later than a decent hour. You always call if something goes wrong with the car. You _**always**_ call.

He'd take away her car, Paul decided. He wouldn't let her use the computer or her cell phone. Her iPod would be completely off-limits, and she wouldn't be able to see Alan until she was thirty-five.

He was about this close to actually biting his nails with worry. Danielle was never out late. She didn't like going to late parties. Her cell phone never left her pocket, but even if she didn't have it, she knew that she should call. It wasn't that he and Lacey had taught their girls a specific set of rules, but rather, they as parents had taught their daughters a code of polite behavior. It was polite to call ahead for whatever reason. And both girls, Danielle and Alice, always called.

Paul looked over his shoulder when he heard his wife walking down the stairs.

"Paul," Lacey said, coming up to his side. "It's eleven o'clock at night. You should come to bed." Even with her calming voice, her face was pinched with worry, and she was pale underneath her tan.

"She's not home yet," Paul stated needlessly. "I don't think I could sleep."

"I know," she sighed. She rested her head against his chest when he slipped an arm around her shoulders. "But you should come to bed. You have work in the morning."

Paul shook his head. "I think I'm going to take the day off. We should call the police in the morning… maybe she needed to go to a friend's house… I just really, really hope I'm imagining the worst."

"Me, too," Lacey said with strength in her voice. She gave her husband a gentle squeeze. "It's probably not nearly as bad as we think."

In that moment, Paul was glad for the first time that Lacey didn't have a clue as to what he really worked with. If she had any idea of the real horrors out in the universe, she would be even more scared for their daughter than she was. Most parents, Lacey included, would worry about kidnapping or murder by another human. Paul was getting images of a Goa'uld landing on Earth secretly and slaying his daughter or taking her as a host.

He closed his eyes against the image of his daughter's eyes glowing.

She was probably just at a friend's house and had forgotten to call, Paul tried to convince himself as he walked up to bed with Lacey. That was probably it.

But he was haunted by his beautiful daughter's eyes glowing for the rest of the night. He didn't sleep.

**...**

Author's Notes: Well, there you have it. A family has been torn asunder, and they will have a lot to deal with while Danielle is gone. Martouf carries a great deal of guilt because he has to do his duty, and he knows there's no way around it, but he is betraying his friends, and he's bringing this girl to her death. Not to mention the fact that Danielle doesn't even know that there are aliens, and she's coming into close contact with the worst bunch out there. What exactly is in store for her will be revealed in time, but meanwhile, I hope you enjoy this installment. Please, click that button right below this and take a few minutes of your time to tell me what you thought - it would be most appreciated.


	3. Awakening

Author's Notes: Ah, yet another chapter! I personally love this story already. It's much different than anything I've ever written before, which I like. In this chapter, we learn more about Danielle from the perspective of someone who's known her since she was a preteen, and Paul comes to a startling realization. Also, we learn more of Isis. Enjoy!

**...**

Paul Davis clenched his teeth and forced himself to take a deep breath. Usually, violence was the last thing he felt tempted to, but he seriously felt as though he was moments away from strangling the detective in front of him.

At seven o'clock on the dot, Paul and his wife Lacey had gone down to the local police department. It was now eight o'clock, and they were finally talking to someone. But it wasn't the waiting that irritated Paul – he did work for the government, after all; extreme patience was necessary – but the detective who sat in front of him.

"Is there _anything_ you can do?" Paul asked, his frustration with the man across the desk in front of him masking some of his panic over the fact his daughter still wasn't home.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Davis –"

Paul cut him off. "It's Lieutenant Colonel, actually."

The detective paused and then tried to look somewhat apologetic. "I'm sorry. Colonel Davis, there isn't anything I can do. To file a missing person report, the person must be out of contact for seventy-two hours. It's –"

Once again, the detective was interrupted. This time, it was by the opening of the door. Paul glanced over his shoulder only to recognize the man who walked in. His name was Roderick Lane; he was the police chief, and he had been part of Paul's team when he had gone to Iraq in the early nineties. Any happiness he felt at the appearance of his old friend, however, was dimmed by the grim look on Roderick's face.

"Detective," Roderick addressed the cause of Paul's irritation. "You may leave; I'm personally taking care of this case."

The detective looked like he wanted to protest, to say there wasn't even a case, but he knew when he had been dismissed, and he promptly left the room.

Roderick smiled slightly as he greeted Paul and Lacey, shaking their hands firmly. But his smile soon faded as he settled a hip on his detective's desk to talk to the couple. "Normally, I wouldn't be making a case out of a missing person yet, but…" he took a deep breath. "A jogger was going along one of the dirt paths in Arlington Park in the woods not twenty minutes ago and found a cell phone there. Not far off from the phone were signs of a struggle, and an amount of dried blood caked on the dirt. I had my boys identify the phone, and it was under your name, Paul," he said. "I think it's safe to say we're dealing with a kidnapping."

Paul was stunned into silence. At least there wasn't a body. But… the blood…

Lacey's throat came unstuck first. "Have you been able to tell what happened?"

Roderick shook his head. "Not entirely, but what we have surmised is that your daughter was standing still or walking slowly when she was hit from behind by some sort of weapon. She landed ten feet away from her original position. She laid there for thirty seconds to a minute, depending on what type of wound she received - a smaller, more insignificant wound would require her to have laid there for longer to bleed that much - until she was moved from there. We haven't found any trace of where she was taken yet."

"Can you," Paul started hesitantly. "Can you be sure it was her blood?"

"Not until the blood samples come back and confirm," Roderick supplied. "But as of right now, your daughter is the only possible person it could be, unless someone managed to steal her phone."

Through the painful haze of panic and confusion, Paul started to think. "Roderick… what could have possibly caused my daughter to land ten feet away from where she had been standing?" he asked, but his mind answered the question.

But it just wasn't possible… it was totally improbable! The only staff weapons on Earth were the ones kept at Area 51 or at the SGC. Besides, no one would target his daughter… well, no, that was a lie. If someone had enough knowledge to be able to steal a staff weapon, they would definitely have the connections to know that he was involved with the program. Being involved with politics as he was, he had his share of enemies. It was within the realm of possibility that someone had targeted his daughter to try and curb his actions, to get him to submit to their will. But he hadn't been contacted. There was no note, no phone call, no nothing. It just didn't add up.

Paul closed his mouth and forced the bile back down his throat. It only added up if someone else had come to Earth with a staff weapon.

Suddenly feeling as though he was being choked, he stood up abruptly, cutting off any explanation Roderick had been giving him. "I have to make a call," he bit out and left the room, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone. A cell phone was never secure, but it would have to do for now.

It took several minutes, but finally, a welcome voice came at the other end of the line.

"O'Neill."

"Colonel," Paul hated how his voice was so shaky. "We have a serious, serious problem."

…

"It's possible, sir," Major Samantha Carter said as she looked over the data in front of her, glancing at her teammates and General Hammond. "At one o'clock, NASA reported a slight disturbance in the radio signal from the International Space Station, as if it suddenly had been turned off, but then turned on not thirty seconds later. The ISS reports that their signal had been bounced back. Now, to me, that seems to say that a cloaked vessel could have passed around the ISS and interfered with the signal."

General George Hammond nodded. "But why would a Goa'uld take only one girl and then leave? Wouldn't it want to stay and try and take over the planet?"

"I do not know, General Hammond," Teal'c said. "It is possible this is a kidnapping strictly for the purpose of allowing a Goa'uld to have some power over us and to show that great damage can be done without a full attack."

"But if this was a kidnapping," Jack said. "Why haven't we been contacted?"

"Sometimes, O'Neill," Teal'c answered. "The best communication is one that involves no words." Jack accepted that statement with a nod.

Daniel took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "So, what do we do?" he asked.

"Well," Sam said thoughtfully. "I really have no idea. We don't know which Goa'uld took the girl, and we don't know where it's going or even if the girl is still alive."

Suddenly, the alarm blared, and Sergeant Harriman's voice came over the public address system. "Unscheduled offworld activation!"

"This might be that snake," Jack said as the five walked down the staircase into the control room.

SG-1 congregated behind Harriman, and General Hammond looked to the sergeant. "Any IDC?"

"No -- ," Harriman was cut off by numbers filling in the IDC boxes. "It's the Tok'ra, sir," the sergeant reported, glancing up at his commanding officer.

"Open the iris," came the expected order.

"I wonder what they want," Daniel commented curiously. "It's been several weeks since we last contacted them."

"Well, let's find out," Hammond suggested, leading SG-1 from the control room to the Gate room.

General Hammond and SG-1 faced the undulating event horizon for a moment until two members of the Tok'ra stepped through: Jacob Carter and another Tok'ra they had not met yet. Jacob smiled grimly at the sight of his friends and his daughter, but everyone could see his grave countenance.

"Dad?" Sam asked, moving forward to embrace her father. "What's wrong?"

Jacob hugged Sam back and released her before looking at George and the rest of SG-1. "Danielle Davis," he said as though the words were as sticky as molasses, hesitant to say them and admit something so horrible had happened. "Does that name mean anything to any of you?"

Sam looked confused for a moment before answering. "Yeah," she said. "That's the name of Colonel Paul Davis' daughter. She's been missing for almost twenty-four hours… wait, why do you know her name?"

The other Tok'ra spoke up, his voice deep and alien. "Martouf has been on a mission for the last several months. He is in the employ of Isis, a relatively minor Goa'uld with more ambition than makes us comfortable, as her second-in-command. Martouf contacted us last night to tell us to contact you."

Selmak picked up the story as the two Tok'ra were guided to the briefing room. "Isis had ordered him to come here to Earth and take one of your people, and the first he came upon was Miss Davis. From the identification she carried on her person, he discovered her name, and he risked his cover and his life to contact us. He wants her to be saved, but there is little he can do in his present position."

"Did Martouf say where Isis was going?" Jack asked as he lowered himself into his seat at Hammond's right hand. The Tok'ra took their seats across from him.

"Yes," Selmak answered. "My comrade has the gate address."

The other Tok'ra pushed over a piece of paper to Hammond. "To be honest," the Tok'ra said. "There may not be hope to recover the girl. Isis may kill her before she arrives at this planet. It will take two weeks, at least, to get there, and that will be two weeks of torture."

Sam's entire posture stiffened.

_It was the fourth of July, and Paul had invited her to a barbecue at his house, claiming his wife was the best cook in the entire world and that everyone would be at this barbecue. She had been working with Paul on several projects and felt he was a good friend and couldn't see a reason not to go. It turned out to be a great decision._

_Paul's wife Lacey was a wonderful hostess. She was smiling and laughing with everyone, quick to fetch drinks for her guests. She supervised Paul at the grill, making sure he didn't burn the hamburgers or steaks while he was chatting with the neighbors, and she made sure all of the children were playing nicely. _

"_Oh, Captain!" Lacey greeted her enthusiastically. "Paul's told me so much about you! I'm so glad you came!"_

_Sam smiled a bit awkwardly. "Thanks," she said. "Please, call me Sam."_

"_Sam," Lacey said with a beaming smile. _

"_Seems the party's in full swing," Sam commented._

_Lacey glanced over her shoulder to see all of the neighbors and both her and Paul's coworkers socializing animatedly. "Yeah, it's going pretty well," she stopped a little girl with brown pigtails. "Alice," she addressed the girl. "This is Captain Sam Carter. Sam, this is my youngest daughter, Alice."_

"_Hello, Alice," Sam offered her hand to the seven-year-old._

_Alice shook it excitedly. "Hi!" she responded. Then, she nearly toppled over as she looked up and had to bend back slightly to see her mother's face. "Can I go? Damien says I can play badminton with them."_

"_Where's your sister?" Lacey asked._

"_I don't know." With that, Alice ran off to where a group of children were gathering for a game of badminton at the net that Paul had set up for the occasion._

_Lacey grinned as she turned back to Sam. "Can I get you a drink?" _

"_Sure," Sam said. Quickly enough, she was wrapped up into a conversation with several of the Davis' neighbors, and it was a blessing that, knowing Paul, they had enough tact to not ask any questions she couldn't answer about her work. Two happy hours passed until Sam realized she needed to use the restroom. _

_She got directions from Paul and entered the cool house, grateful for the shadows that were a soothing balm after being in the bright, hot sunlight for so long. She navigated her way through the spacious house and found the bathroom with no trouble whatsoever. However, after she dried her hands on the towel on the ring on the wall and left the bathroom, she was drawn down the hall by a light that was coming from a barely-ajar door at the end of the hallway. She heard a young girl's voice from the crack in the door and the sound of marching footsteps. Curious, she opened the door._

_A little girl on the brink of puberty was in the room, standing in front of a mirror. She was dressed in an appropriately patriotic outfit for the barbecue, but her small frame was dwarfed by the Air Force uniform jacket she wore. Her little hands didn't even come close to poking out from the sleeves, and the hem of the jacket reached to about three inches from her knees. Despite the ridiculous size of the jacket on her, she stood as proud and tall as any cadet Sam had ever seen, and she saluted herself in the mirror._

"_I'm Major Danielle Davis," she said with the utmost seriousness as she faced her reflection. "I serve in the United States Air Force."_

_Sam smiled – what an adorable little girl – and she closed the door, planning to leave the child to her imagination, but the door squeaked, and the girl jumped and turned around._

"_Sorry," Sam said with an apologetic smile._

"_Who are you?" Danielle asked, looking self-conscious in her father's service jacket._

"_Sam Carter. I'm sorry I bothered you," Sam said again._

"_Oh," Danielle shrugged. "It's okay." She looked a bit sad for a moment and looked up at Sam. "You know, my sister thinks it's kind of weird that I'd rather use my dad's uniform for dress up than my mom's clothes."_

"_Really?" Sam asked, unable to help but feel a bit bad for the girl who couldn't be more than eleven years old in front of her. "But why do you?" she prompted Danielle when it didn't seem she was about to go on._

"_Because…" the eleven-year-old shifted uncomfortably. "Because I want to be just like my dad when I grow up. I want to be in the Air Force, too. Even though it's hard for girls to be in the Air Force or the Army. I want to do it."_

They **had** to get her back, Sam knew in her mind.

"Well, we have to get her back," Daniel voiced Sam's thoughts, turning to the general. "I don't even think it's a question of _if_; we just have to."

"I agree," Jack said, his tone inviting no argument. "General, permission for SG-1 to take this mission?"

"Permission granted," Hammond said without hesitation. "But we need more information, both on this Isis and what to expect, should Danielle Davis be alive when we go to rescue her, and we need to explore the planet before Isis arrives."

Selmak lowered his head, and Jacob took over. "Isis is of little importance to the System Lords. She usually keeps to herself and rules the small network of planets under her control. Most of the planets have very primitive people, probably around the level of the Dark Ages. She has Jaffa and motherships, but not many of either, but she is a significant threat because her planets have high concentrations of gold and precious gems, so many mercenaries are on her side.

"Not to mention the fact she is ambitious. While her Jaffa army is relatively small, she keeps a veritable army of human slaves, and tales of her experimentation and torture of them are legendary. She is very good at what she does," Jacob related.

"Experimentation?" Sam asked, fighting to keep her voice level. Danielle was the very image of her father. She had his dark hair and his green eyes and his passion to serve. She also had his mind for mathematics. She could remember the day Paul told her that Danielle had announced her decision to join the Air Force, and she hadn't been more than thirteen at the time … he had never been more proud of his little girl. Sam couldn't imagine the pain he and Lacey were going through, and she couldn't imagine what Danielle was about to go through.

Jacob nodded gravely. "Isis does not only torture for the sheer pleasure of it, though she does do it at times. She often likes to test the strength of her slaves by torturing them until they break, interrogating them on matters they know nothing about, insisting on their guilt, torturing them until they admit guilt. She likes to see how long it takes until a human from a planet not under her control swears their undying allegiance to her."

"It is true, what he says," Teal'c said. "Isis is legendary, and I have heard of many Jaffa swear they would rather kill themselves than allow Isis to take them prisoner. Danielle Davis will be damaged and very much changed from this experience, should she survive."

"Well," Jack asserted, slapping the table with his hand. "I plan on the kid surviving and getting her out of there. We can deal with any wounds or emotional damage afterwards. But right now, we need a plan." He turned to Jacob. "Will you guys be able to contact Martouf between now and then? We'll need his help."

Jacob shook his head. "We can't contact him: it would be too dangerous. But we will talk to him if he contacts us and try to work something out with him, and then we'll talk to you."

"Even if we are not able to collaborate with Martouf on this matter, we will retrieve Danielle Davis from Isis' hands," Teal'c stated.

General Hammond nodded. "Yes, we will," he said. "The reconnaissance mission will be at 0800 tomorrow morning, SG-1. Jacob, I assume you need to return as soon as possible?"

Jacob nodded. "Yes, unfortunately. Martouf contacts us at every moment he can, and we'll need to be there."

Hammond stood up, Jack and Sam standing as well. "Thank you for coming," the general said.

Jacob hugged his daughter and clapped Jack on the shoulder. Jack smiled. "See you, Dad," he said, resting a hand on Jacob's shoulder as well.

"Bye, Dad," Sam said. "Bye, Selmak," she added with a smile when her father's eyes glowed.

With a few more farewells, the two Tok'ra were sent back through the Stargate.

"Dismissed, people," the general said, beginning to retreat to his office, but Sam stopped him.

"Sir, I was wondering," she began, "if I could be the one to call Colonel Davis with this information. He'll want to know."

The general's blue eyes softened as he thought of Colonel Davis, a man he knew only as the most honorable and a man he truly respected. "Do it, Major," he allowed.

"Thank you, sir," Sam said with a slight smile as she turned around to head to her office, and Jack fell into step next to her. "Sir," she greeted.

Jack slid his hands into his pockets. "You know Davis' family?"

Sam shrugged. "A little. I worked with him for several years on the program at the Pentagon." Her eyes were soft as she recalled the family. "His wife is a wonderful woman, and she's one of the most patient and trusting individuals I've ever met. She's had to deal with her husband working in classified programs for years. Alice," she said with a smile, "is the younger of the two. She's fourteen, I think. And Danielle," her voice wavered, "is eighteen." She couldn't bear to say anymore.

"We'll get her back, Sam," Jack stated. It wasn't for Sam's comfort. It was a fact. "We'll get her back."

"I know," she said, her eyes faraway. "I'm just wondering what sort of condition she'll be in when we do."

…

The first thing Danielle Davis heard when she woke up was the sound of clanging footsteps as they grew louder and then faded away. The first thing she felt was agony radiating from her side and some stickiness on her hand.

But the first thing she knew when she awoke was that she definitely wasn't at home and that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

She had been awake for several minutes, and she hadn't been able to open her eyes. She felt woozy and lightheaded from the extreme pain from her side. She wasn't quite sure what was wrong and why she was hurting, but it made her feel weak from her feet to her head. She couldn't even move, not that she had tried. She didn't even want to know what trying to move would feel like.

Her mouth was dry, and her teeth had that awful feeling that she got whenever she didn't brush her teeth at night before bed. Her stomach was churning, too, and her head felt as though it had been cracked open.

Eventually, she managed to open her eyes, and the room spun. She groaned and shut her eyes immediately. Minutes later, she drifted back out of consciousness, unable to sustain a state of wakefulness with the wound on her side. She didn't even have time to realize that the stickiness on her hand was her own blood.

**...**

Author's Notes: So, we have Danielle Davis injured badly - any sort of hit from a staff weapon must be horrible - and everyone knows where she will be in two weeks. However, she is under the power of a Goa'uld for that time, and despite the fact that Martouf will be with her every moment of the way, he cannot do anything. But will he? Will he risk his cover and his life to save one girl? SHOULD he risk his cover? Should he risk this chance to cut off the serpent's head off before it strikes (hrm, pun intended) simply to save one relatively insignificant girl? But with or without his help, protection, and support, even if he does nothing to get her off of the mothership... will she survive? That is the question I would like you all to ponder as you review. I'd love to hear what you think. Remember, just because people seem to always survive in movies doesn't mean Danielle will. This story will be as realistic as possible, considering there's a Stargate. Please review - I love to hear what you think.


	4. The Child

Author's Notes: So here we are at chapter four. In this chapter, there is nothing but Danielle and Martouf. We learn of her situation and what exactly is going on in her head. What is she up against? What fears does she contend with? And Martouf, he is betraying his friends, he is betraying Earth when they have saved him and the Tau'ri before. What guilt he must feel! Yay emotional angst! My favorite kind. So, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and don't forget to leave me a comment, even if it is as simple as 'this rocked' or 'this sucked' or 'this needs more nutmeg.'

**...**

Danielle wasn't sure which way was up or down when she faded once more into consciousness. She felt dizzy and sick and in all ways awful. Her head seemed ready to explode from the pain from her side. The only relief she found was in the cold floor; its lack of heat soothed her.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned from her stomach onto her uninjured side and raised her head a few inches. Her heart began to thud painfully in her chest when she didn't recognize her surroundings, and she nearly had a panic attack when she saw there were bars enclosing her into a cell of some sort. She fought down her panic and her nausea and blinked forcefully, trying to gather herself. Tears pricked her eyes and eventually slipped down her cheeks as she inched her way to the nearest wall, feeling vulnerable in the middle of the cell.

_**God**_, her side hurt. She felt like she was going to be sick all over the floor from the dizzying pain, not to mention the urge to vomit from fear. A creepy, dark basement might have made sense. Some sort of shack or the back of a car, even. But not this… whatever this was. And why did her side hurt so badly?

Propping herself up as best she could without straining her side, Danielle scrubbed at her face, but she stopped once that action started to irritate a few scratches and scrapes that were on her cheeks and forehead. She didn't know how she'd even gotten to wherever this place was. She remembered needing to meet Alan and dropping her sister off… and then she had gone to that park because she had wanted to be alone… she'd gotten up off of the bench… the path off into the woods… being overwhelmed with fear and anxiety because of the Academy… but she couldn't remember anything further than that. She could only assume that she had hit her head or someone had hit her head. Head wounds were nasty things, and even though she couldn't remember what had caused all of her current pain, she was pretty sure she didn't have a concussion. Thank God for small blessings.

Danielle had to pause all of her thoughts to heave in deep breaths. Every time she looked at the bars that kept her in the cell, it made her want to vomit with all of the fear churning around in her stomach. Where was she? What was she supposed to do? Not to mention the pain radiating from the wound on her side. Relaxing until her head was on the floor again, she tentatively probed her painful side. Wincing and cursing like a sailor, she realized numbly that it seemed portions of her muscle had been blasted away by whatever had caused her injury. **Chunks** of her **flesh**. One of her sides had a pleasant curve from the side of her waist to her hips. The other was mangled.

She let out a strangled sob as she turned her head quickly and vomited, the contents of her stomach spewing across the floor. It smelled horrible, and it made her head spin, and it made her want to throw up again. Trickles of liquid down her back and zigzagging across her stomach piqued her curiosity through the haze of panic, sickness, and pain. Her questing fingers found the liquid, and she peered at the pads of her fingertips.

Blood.

Danielle's head spun, and she started to cry. "What the hell?!" she asked as fiercely as she could through her tears. She sobbed despite the pain it wrought on her. "What the hell?!" she repeated hopelessly.

"I can't do this!" she suddenly exclaimed, sniffing forcefully and wiping her tears away. "I can't do this," she muttered, scraping at the bottom of her emotional barrels for some strength. Somehow, through some miracle, she found a way to sit up against the wall without it causing her much pain. She scooted away from the puddle of her vomit and couldn't believe that sweat was dribbling down her face at that simple action. Her breaths came in shuddering and left her trembling.

"My side hurts," she complained to the air. "My head hurts, and I feel sick," maybe it was weird that it was comforting to talk to herself, "And I don't even know where the heck I am." A flash of hope ignited in her heart when the thought randomly occurred to her that someone would find her before too long because she always had her cell phone on her person and people could track cell phone signals through triangulation, but a quick search of her pockets revealed no cell phone. No anything, actually.

Her pulse pounded in her head when she realized that nothing was in her pockets. She didn't have her cell phone, her car keys, her wallet, or her packet of gum. Someone had searched her… she didn't want to even think about someone's hands in her pockets while she was unconscious, injured, and unable to defend herself.

Danielle closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall. She heard footsteps echoing through the hallway, and her eyes flew open, suddenly more aware of her surroundings than she had before. It was one thing to be injured and not know where she was while she was alone… it was an entirely different story if her kidnapper was going to make himself known. She finally took notice of her cell.

The bars were horizontal and vertical, creating squares. Two pillars created a doorway across from her, across from the wall that created the fourth wall of the cell, and the door seemed to be made of something that was vaguely opaque, as light was coming through it. The cell couldn't be more than fifteen feet by fifteen feet, she estimated weakly as she hissed and cursed enough to make her mother blush, trying to force herself to her feet. Her legs were fine, of course, they weren't hurt at all; it was just her damn side that was complicating everything. However, she scrambled up onto her feet, feeling wetness seep into her jeans. She felt sick as the coppery smell of blood wafted up into her nose, but she kept her stomach. She closed her eyes and fought off the nausea, trying to keep it at bay. She steadied herself against the wall, keeping both palms on the cold wall by her side.

She opened her eyes as the footsteps came closer. She saw a single man round the corner and nod to… someone was probably standing guard in front of her cell. Damn it, she shouldn't have talked. She was weak, confused, panicked, more scared than she'd ever been in her entire life, and had a bleeding side, but she didn't want her kidnapper to see any sign of weakness whatsoever from her. She didn't want to show that she was scared or close to having an asthma attack when she didn't even have asthma.

She watched the man until he disappeared from her view, crossing in front of one of the pillars, and the door of her cell opened, and the man entered. He scrutinized her, his eyes raking up and down her, and it unnerved her and made her horribly afraid. But it didn't send the primal slash of fear through her gut that every single woman in existence understood when facing sexual assault. Through the haze of pain and fear and panic, she was unnerved and scared… but she wasn't terrified in that way. This man who was at least two heads taller than her intimidated her, and she was scared. She had every right to be scared, and she would have been stupid not to be. But she didn't fear for her innocence.

With the sheer ruthlessness etched into the features of his face, she was pretty sure he knew how to break her without having to debase himself to such primitive methods of demonstrating his control over her.

Maybe that wasn't a normal reaction or ability, being able to pick apart her fear in such a freakish situation. Maybe she should be scared of being raped by this man. She knew nothing about him, and rape happened all too often. But she knew that, and she knew it could and might happen to her; being a woman in the military had its own risks. And yes, she was terrified of being tortured or killed or beaten up… but some subconscious part of her simply knew that rape was one of the few things that she didn't have to fear from this man, whoever the hell he was.

Danielle swallowed as he finished his appraisal of her physical state and forced herself to meet his eyes. She hated the fact she couldn't help but cower and shrink when he turned his eyes to hers, but there wasn't anything else she could do. Tears burned at her eyes.

Then his eyes glowed.

Danielle's heart stopped, and for a moment, all that existed was this fear-infused moment and his glowing eyes. Then time slammed back, racing so that it might catch up with itself, as it had lingered for too long, and her heart and her pulse were beating through her entire body.

"What the hell?" her words slurred as she was speaking too quickly, backing herself up against the wall, "What the hell?!" she shrieked.

"You will come with me." His voice echoed through her mind, and it definitely wasn't a request. But all Danielle knew, all she understood, all her primitive subconscious understood, was that she definitely did not want to go with him.

"No," she whispered, her voice trembling. "No!" she repeated, her voice bordering on a shriek.

"_**Kree**_, Tau'ri!" he demanded, and she shuddered, cowering once more. She didn't understand his words, but she understood the tone. "You will come with me," he repeated, his iron voice slamming into her like a fist.

Danielle stared at him, dumb, horrified. Then she nodded.

She wanted to say no, she wanted to refuse again, she wanted to fight back. She wanted to get _out_ of this place and go home, but she couldn't, and she didn't want to get hurt more than she already was. Maybe if she complied, he wouldn't hurt her, maybe he wouldn't torture her or sell her into slavery or make her become a prostitute or whatever sick fucks like him did to eighteen-year-old girls like her.

Injured or not, incapacitated or not, powerless or not, Danielle Davis would not allow herself to be so misused and abused. She would not allow herself to be sold as a sex slave. She would not allow herself to be tortured or whatever this sick man wanted to do with her. It didn't matter what it took. She would starve herself and not drink water and die a slow death that way rather than be put through that.

It was a startling revelation for an eighteen-year-old to make, and it shook her as she followed slowly behind her kidnapper, as that was the only title that could describe him. Her life was only beginning. She had so much in front of her. She didn't want to die. She wanted to live.

But fuck life, if living meant being a sex slave or a prostitute or being pumped full of drugs so she would lie there in a docile manner as scores of men raped her. There were some situations when life wasn't worth it, and a life of sexual abuse was no life at all to her.

Danielle gently gathered the tatters of her t-shirt and pressed them against her wound to try and stem the blood flow. Wherever the rest of her torso was, she thought weakly, the rest of her t-shirt would be as well. But with every step, more blood came, and she stumbled. The man caught her arm in an iron grip – that was a word that seemed to describe him, iron – and nearly dragged her along. That hurt worse, and she moaned in agony.

…

Martouf could tell she would not live much longer. She had been bleeding for far too long, and her wound had only begun to coagulate. It was only due to the sheer stubbornness of youth that she was even standing, much less walking. He should have had Jaffa guards carry her or even healed her. Isis would want the girl's life preserved, as the Goa'uld had some interesting games lined up for the Tau'ri child. But Martouf and Lantash both wanted the girl to appear strong at all times, to hopefully intimidate Isis. Oh, the poor Tau'ri child…

That was what she was, he mourned inwardly. She was a child. Her body might have developed into that of a woman, and she might have all of the capabilities and urges of a young adult, but she was a child. She was innocent and untouched by the horrors of the universe. She had been protected while on Earth.

And he would be the one to initiate her into the brutality of the universe she lived in. He was dragging her to torture and almost certain death. Even if she survived the atrocity of the next two weeks until they reached one of Isis' planets, Martouf knew it was not a far-fetched concept that she would end her own life. The power of fear and pain on the human mind was unbelievable.

Miss Davis was, at this moment, somewhat defiant and bold and strong. She had been brought up in a culture that valued strength and stoicism and fighting _**back**_. Her entire country was built on that concept of fighting back. Martouf had learned that many cultural movements in her country certainly fostered and nurtured the idea of defiance. He knew that many others of her age would also do anything to fight against injustice and wrongs committed against others.

He knew a great deal about the culture of America, from both Samantha and Jacob Carter. Both had been patient teachers, providing him with information so that he might understand why the American people and the people of Earth were as they were. But he had learned much more from merely observing.

Jack O'Neill was the best example of a man of Earth that Martouf had ever met. He was a warrior who would protect his people and his country and his world without a second thought. It was second nature to him; he protected and preserved. But it was not mere duty. It was his greatest passion and his greatest love.

Martouf and Lantash both recognized that in Danielle – she loved greatly, and she was passionate.

Martouf couldn't help that he pitied the girl for what she was to experience. Lantash couldn't help but respect her. Yes, she was scared. Yes, she was hurt and ill and dazed. But she wasn't meek and compliant from the start. With what little she had to fight, she fought with. All she had were her words, and she had tried. She had refused at first.

That alone gave Lantash hope.

Martouf simply didn't want to see the defiance and passion in her eyes fade. Right now, as he dragged her along, she was fighting. She was fighting to stay awake, fighting the pain and sickness away, fighting for her composure. She wasn't begging – _not yet_, his nasty conscience nearly sang – and she wasn't breaking down. She was holding it together. Her courage was impressive, all things considered. She was still standing while half of her body was stained with her own blood. But he doubted she had realized that.

_She will not survive_, Martouf thought mournfully. _And I have sentenced an innocent child to death. I will watch as she dies. She is not the first I have seen killed, and she most certainly will not be the last… but she will be the greatest loss._

_Why, dearest one?_ Lantash asked, gently sending warmth to Martouf's ribs, somehow banishing the chains of guilt and pain for a moment so the host could breathe.

_Others from the galaxy… they have seen death. They know death as one knows a lover. They have experienced it and seen it and are more accustomed to it. It is no real shock. Death is a burden to be borne for a time and then discarded when the time is right and when the memory of a loved one no longer hurts as freshly as it did the day the person died._

_How is it different for those from Earth?_ Lantash's voice was quiet, thrumming through him as though it was his own thought.

_Danielle Davis does not know death. She does not know true fear. She is brave, yes. She has been taught strength and poise and defiance well by her culture, her peers, and her parents, yes. She is the culmination of her history and heritage, yes. But in the next days, she will become so familiar with death and fear and exhaustion that she will desire it, more keenly than she has desired anything. She will not survive, and when she dies and when the light fades from her eyes, I will see the death to whatever innocence I have left, and I will see the death of hope._

With his swirling guilt, Martouf forgot that the girl of whom he was thinking was still vibrantly alive, and he was holding onto her arm with a tight grip.

_I would not be so sure to assume that she will die. She is young, but so are all of the Tau'ri, in comparison to the Tok'ra. She may not know of death or torture or terror, but she may learn and not be broken by the knowledge_,Lantash merely stated. Martouf couldn't even tell if his symbiote truly believed in the girl or if he was merely pointing out the other side of the argument.

Either way, it churned at his heart and sparked hope back into existence in his heart.

The hope dimmed when he turned back to the girl, Lantash taking over, and watched her collapse against the ground. Her skin was far too pale, he noticed detachedly. He shouldn't have made her walk. He had thought it would have made the most spectacular of impressions of Isis and scared her witless, seeing the Tau'ri girl injured but, oh, so defiant in the fact that she walked. Martouf knelt down and smiled slightly to himself. If only, he mused as he retrieved his healing device from a pouch at his side. Within minutes, the wound was gone, and Danielle's body had been put to rights.

…

Danielle felt all of the pain and sickness and dizziness leave her as though it was being slowly sucked out by a tube attached to her injured side. It had started with her headache slowly disappearing at the same time the numbness in her legs began to be replaced with feeling. The scrapes on her face stopped hurting, and she was suddenly more able to focus. Breathing became easier as her bruised ribs became unbruised, and finally, the agony of her side faded into distant memory. Once it was gone, she couldn't remember how terrible it had been, and it was as if she had never been hurt in the first place.

Unfortunately, the smell of her own coppery blood remained. For a moment, she remained on the floor, reveling in the peace she felt from being relieved of the agony. Then she remembered where she was. Her sitting up was soon followed by standing, and she didn't sway on her feet as she eyed the device the man held in his hand – she didn't know what it was, she didn't really want to know, but it had just healed her. **He** had just healed her. Why? She didn't know. She didn't really want to know. It was done, she felt better, and that was that.

She could feel her posture becoming rigid, and she instinctively took a step back so she was in a better position to fight him.

She had thought combat was years off for her. She had thought the years of cross country running and tae kwon do would only really be useful to be in shape for the Academy so she could become a pilot. She had thought her physical fitness had only really been useful for looking decent in a bikini and at school dances and for making gym class only a minor necessary nuisance in her life. Unfortunately, all of that was not true.

Here, she might get her first taste of a fight. Here, she might need the skills she had learned in tae kwon do classes. Here, she might actually need to use her level of fitness for something other than a controlled one and a half mile run. Her newly mended stomach muscles clenched in anticipation, and her arms stiffened at her sides, preparing for a fight.

"You will come with me, Tau'ri," the man stated once again. His voice was hard and cold, like iron bars forgotten outside during a blizzard. Iron.

Danielle wanted to refuse. She wanted to scream and punch him and throw him on the floor and run. But she forced herself to take a breath, and she looked around. There were three frightening men down the hall in what looked like chain mail with staffs. They were bigger than her and much stronger. Even the man in front of her, while more streamlined than his beefy compatriots, was definitely bigger than her and seemed to almost reek of physical strength.

In the end, her simple desire for self-preservation won out. She glared and remained in her severely defensive position, but she waited for the man to walk, and when he did, she followed him. That didn't mean she was going to just let this happen. But she didn't want to be beaten before she learned anything.

… she understood quite well why her knees threatened to buckle every time he looked over his shoulder to ensure she was keeping up or why she wanted to faint every time she heard an unfamiliar sound or why… but she needed to be strong. She **was** going to be strong. She **was** strong. But she was terrified out of her mind. She wanted to cry. And her tears began to streak down her face, but she didn't sob. She strangled the desire to let out moans and sniffles and chained those sounds in her chest. But he didn't look back at her, and for that she was grateful, even if he was just simmering in his own victory at making a girl cry.

**...**

Author's Notes: Poor Danielle. She's trying to hold, trying to be strong, trying to be what she thinks she should be, but she's only eighteen in the face of all of this madness. Can she survive? What will the effects be on her mind, if she does survive? What do you think? Do you think she'll survive? I think that's a major question that should be considered. Is she mentally capable of facing torture and constant terror? Can the human mind be set to rights after something like this? I'd love to hear your thoughts because these are just fascinating questions to consider, especially when we have a character in that situation. Also, how am I doing with Martouf and Lantash? I haven't seen much interaction between the two of them in fanfiction, so I feel like I'm going into unchartered territory. Again, I'd love to hear your thoughts! Just press that little button down there!


	5. On the Homefront

Author's Notes: I'd just like to give a shout-out to SG4ever - I love your comments and how you actually put thought into them and answer my little questions, it makes me happy and you rock! - and I'd like to say that I really like this chapter. I mean, I like the story as a whole so far, but I really like this one because it gets into what everyone's feeling at home and into more of Danielle's thoughts and we see how she's going to cope in the days ahead of her. Also, what she quotes at the very end is the military Code of Conduct, what members of the military are supposed to abide by when they are prisoners of war. So, enjoy this chapter and I'd love some feedback!

**...**

Colonel Paul Davis had never hated the Goa'uld more, and this solidified his contempt of them.

He had hated them when he learned of them. He had hated them when they tried to destroy Earth. He had hated them then. But now, he was enraged and, blindly, he despised them. He wanted to see every single snake destroyed. He wanted to strangle all of them personally. They had taken his daughter. His precious, gorgeous, beautiful _**daughter**_.

And standing in one of the many base quarters at the SGC, he wanted to be out there, finding his daughter and killing the one who took her. He wouldn't take pleasure in it – killing was never a pleasure to a man with any sanity left – but he would take great pride in knowing that the threat to his daughter was eliminated. And he would feel like he was in control. Now, he was not in control of anything.

With a frustrated growl, he sat down, his head in his hands. He already missed Lacey. Sam Carter had managed to get him on the first military transport to Peterson Air Force Base and brought him here. Unfortunately, Lacey couldn't come. She couldn't even know why he was gone, only his vague explanation that he would be helping find their daughter.

… she'd thrown a book at him in anger over that explanation. She knew it wasn't his fault, and he knew she knew it wasn't his fault, but she wanted to know why. She wanted to be there, as was her right as Danielle's mother. But she couldn't, and he planned to pick a serious bone with General Hammond about it later.

Paul was moments away from calling his wife when the door opened to reveal Major Sam Carter, and he stood up to greet her. "Sam," he said with a grim smile.

"Paul, how are you holding up?" she asked, embracing him. They were friends, had been friends when she had worked at the Pentagon with him, and, right now, rank didn't matter. He was her friend, and she was his, and he held tightly to her.

He finally let her go and took a deep breath. "My nerves are shot to hell," he muttered, raking a hand through his dark hair. "How did the recon mission go?" he asked, nearly panting for information.

"It went fine," Sam replied. "The natives seem relatively peaceful from what we could see, and their technology isn't much further than wooden spears and bone knives. There was a small contingent of Jaffa soldiers, but there weren't more than twenty. Isis' temple was small, and we managed to map it out entirely in the few hours that we were there. With that and Teal'c's knowledge of motherships, we should be able to find Danielle with no trouble," she assured him confidently.

And he believed her, to an extent. "If she survives," he managed to say.

"She will," Sam stated. "Your daughter isn't just any girl, Paul, she's _**your**_ daughter, and she's Lacey's daughter. That has to count for something."

Paul smiled weakly. "I hope so," he said. He suddenly shook his head. "Out of all the things that I imagined going wrong as she got older, this wasn't one of them. Of all of the things I thought would hurt her…" he trailed off hopelessly. "And I can't do anything to help her except be here when you bring back her body."

"We will _**not**_ be bringing back a body," Sam snapped. "She will survive, Paul. Everything you've ever taught her about being an adult, about being a person, she will remember. She's idolized you and everyone you've worked with since she was eleven. And the thing she understands about military life, the one thing you've taught her, is that we leave no one behind. And she's one of us now," she reminded him, "she's a cadet of the Air Force Academy and that makes her one of us. Beyond that, she's a citizen of the United States. She's a citizen of Earth. We don't leave our own behind."

Paul paused and considered her words through his grief and anxiety and fear. He knew SG-1 and the SGC wouldn't stop trying to find and save his daughter. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind about that. He'd seen these people fight for and save planets, including their own. Their dedication was boundless. He would trust them with his life and the lives of his family. He trusted them with Danielle's life.

But he didn't trust a Goa'uld with his daughter's life, even if Martouf was present at all times. He'd met the Tok'ra and liked and respected him. But in a twisted way that made Paul hate himself, he understood why Martouf couldn't do anything to save Danielle. There was no _way_ for him to save her.

Despite everyone's best effort, there was a significant chance that the Goa'uld might kill Danielle and leave her dead. **She might even be dead already**. The thought shocked his system, and tears burned in his eyes, and he couldn't hold them back. His pride and strength crumbled, and he sat back down on the bed and let the embarrassing tears spill over, covering his face with his hands, all the while agonizing that his daughter's bright life might have already been extinguished. He cried that he had lost one of the three real joys in his life. He cried that Danielle would never get to do all of the things she wanted to do – serve in the Air Force, travel the world, do humanitarian work in Africa. He cried for his failure to protect his own.

He'd been able to hold it in for Lacey, before he'd left. He had held it together during the briefing and in front of the sympathetic and sad eyes of all of the base personnel. But his daughter might be dead, and that broke him.

Sam's calm hand on his shoulder anchored him to the world, and he had never been more thankful for her friendship. But he wished Lacey were there; he and her, they could do anything, even bear this horrible burden of fear.

But Sam was there, and that was enough for the moment.

…

Lacey couldn't believe how empty she felt and how empty her house felt without Danielle. She had always been somewhat of a quiet girl, as Alice was definitely the gregarious and outgoing and outspoken one. Alice really took after Lacey in that way. Danielle, like her father, only spoke when she really felt she had something important to say, and she was very focused and determined. There was no obstacle in the world she couldn't overcome; of that, Lacey was convinced. And the house felt empty without her presence.

Lacey, too, felt empty and useless. She was also angry. Paul was off wherever, apparently trying to help find their daughter, and she didn't know why or where he was. He'd mentioned something about Colorado, but there was no way someone had gotten from Virginia to Colorado in only a day. The police had combed the entire county for more signs of Danielle, but they had found nothing. There was only the single puddle of blood and her discarded cell phone. The park Danielle had gone too had even been taped off from the general public, and the Air Force was involved now. Several Air Force officers were even posted around her house! This made no sense.

Danielle had disappeared only twenty-seven hours ago, and already, there was a veritable army of Air Force personnel flooding the state. The police had launched a full investigation, only to be usurped by the Air Force. A General Hammond had even personally called her to tell her they were doing everything they could to find her daughter. It hadn't reassured her because Paul was gone and their daughter still wasn't home. Nothing would be right until she was.

Lacey stared out the window listlessly. She had tried to do some dishes since she was staying home from work, too preoccupied with her daughter missing to think about court cases, but here she was, up to her elbows in tepid, soapy water, unable to focus. She never did dishes by hand unless she needed to occupy her hands and stop herself from thinking. It wasn't working.

"Mom, are you okay?" came Alice's voice from the kitchen table. The fourteen-year-old hadn't been able to leave her mother's side since the day dawned. She hadn't slept, either.

Lacey looked over her shoulder and wiped her hands on a towel. "Yeah, I'm fine," she lied to her daughter. "You look tired, baby. You should go get some rest."

"Can't," she mumbled. "Tried, too. For hours. I just can't."

Lacey went to her daughter's side and hugged her. "I know. Me neither. Neither could your father."

"Where is he?" Alice asked curiously, her voice muffled because her face was buried in her mother's neck.

"I don't know, Ally," she sighed, "but he told me that he was helping to find Danielle."

"He'll find her," Alice stated, trying to convince herself and her mother. "Dad can do anything," she asserted. She'd grown up since she was four. She knew her father wasn't invincible, and she knew he wasn't perfect, but she knew her dad loved her and her sister. She knew her dad and her mom would do anything to get Danielle back, just as they'd do anything to get her back.

"Yes, he can," Lacey chuckled, holding her daughter close.

Alice sighed and then let go of her mother. "I think I'm going to try and sleep. Could you wake me up in a couple hours? I want to be able to sleep tonight, too," she requested.

Lacey smiled and kissed her daughter's hair. "I'll get you up around two o'clock, okay?"

Alice consulted the clock on the wall and decided a three-hour nap would be good. "Okay," she agreed. "I love you, Mom," she said before she went up the stairs.

"I love you, too, kiddo," Lacey replied.

…

A knock came at General George Hammond's office door. "Come," he said, glancing up from his work for a moment.

The door swung open, and Colonel Paul Davis stepped inside. "Ah, Colonel," George greeted, "please sit down."

"Yes, sir," Paul said as he lowered himself into one of the chairs opposite the general. "Sir, right now, my wife is sitting at home, wondering where the hell I am when I should be there with her, waiting for our daughter to come home. I'd like to tell her about the Stargate program and exactly where our daughter is, and I'd like to tell my other daughter as well because she deserves to know where her sister is," he said bluntly.

George raised his eyebrows at the bold request. But that was Colonel Davis. He never was one for beating around the bush. He was all business, even though George could see his composure was skin deep and barely held together. Hammond knew what it was like to have the world crumble around his shoulders.

Paul took Hammond's momentary pause as a sign that he was not considering granting his request. He continued, "Sir, under normal circumstances, I would not ask for this. I've worked in this program for eight years, and my family and I have adjusted to the fact I can't talk about my work, but these are far from normal circumstances, and I don't think it's right that a mother, especially, can't know where her daughter is and can't know the truth." As he kept speaking, his voice became more incensed and passionate, nearly cracking at the end, and Hammond lifted his hand to stop the other man.

"Colonel, please, calm down. Arrange for your wife and daughter to be brought to Peterson Air Force Base, and you may brief them yourself," he paused momentarily, "I don't believe you need a reminder to impress upon them how much of a secret this needs to remain."

Paul stood in front of the general, his body made out of stone as he tried to process what Hammond had just said. It shouldn't have been that easy… he just hadn't expected his request to be granted so easily. He had expected to have to shout to make his point, argue to the point of insubordination and disrespect. But it was as though Hammond had known and been prepared to respond the way he had. Maybe Hammond had anticipated his request. Maybe…

"No, sir," Paul said, his voice clearly showing his relief and gratitude, but George could clearly see an edge was present in everything the colonel said and did. "Thank you, sir."

"It is the least I can do for you, Colonel," Hammond said.

Paul slowly stood up and looked at the general. A moment passed between the two men, separated by age, rank, and experience, but they both knew the profound grief and pain of losing a family member, and Paul realized that Hammond knew better than almost anyone, save Jack O'Neill, who knew what it was like. He nodded, the older man nodded in return, and Paul left, a great burden removed from his shoulders, and he nearly sprinted back to his quarters to call his wife.

…

"So, Daniel," Jack began, reclining in his chair in the commissary, "Tell me about this Isis."

"Well," the younger man said, sipping at his coffee, "she's the Egyptian goddess of motherhood and fertility. She was Osiris' queen, though it seems as though that part of the story hasn't remained true for all of these years."

"Any historical quirks? Is there anything you think might be relevant to us finding the girl?" Jack probed, itching for any further intelligence. They had scoured the planet as best they could without being seen and were still working on a plan of getting in and out with the girl without losing anyone.

Daniel seemed to be flipping through all of the information he had in that big brain of his and then shook his head. "No, nothing that would give us any hints as to what she plans to do with Danielle." He sighed, and then glanced at Jack. "How do you think Colonel Davis is holding up? For all we know, his daughter could be dead already," he pointed out, and in his voice was the unfathomable pain of a man who knew what it was like to lose.

Jack froze; he hadn't considered that. He hadn't _allowed_ himself to consider that Danielle Davis could already be dead. It wasn't in his nature to think like that, and he'd been so wrapped up in planning the mission to bring her back that he hadn't considered that maybe there'd be no need for one.

Images of a beautiful brown-haired boy flashed through his mind, and Jack hoped that Paul would never have to be destroyed as he had when Charlie died.

Jack liked Paul. He was a good man. He did everything by the book, but it wasn't out of spinelessness or not having enough creativity to step outside of the lines. Paul took his duties very seriously and knew that he had a hand in trying to save the world. He understood that, and he followed the rules. However, when push came to shove, Paul always sided with the SGC because he believed it was the right thing to do and had garnered many enemies over the years for that. Paul was clearly devoted to the United States of America and to Earth and to the people of the SGC. He was a good man.

Jack didn't want to see such a good man crumble.

"She's not dead, Daniel," Jack bit out.

Daniel looked like he wanted to protest, but Jack cut him off. "She's not dead, and I won't allow anyone to believe anything differently until we find out for sure. We're bringing her back alive."

Daniel nodded. "Yes, we are," he agreed.

Jack gave his friend a nod.

…

The empty room seemed to echo with dangerous promise around her. Danielle had been standing there for almost half an hour, she estimated, shifting her weight from one side to the other and touching her newly mended skin through the large hole in her t-shirt. She was exhausted, frightened, and her nerves were shot to hell, and that man was just making her _stand_ there!

The man, who had been disinclined to introduce himself, had led her to this room after healing her side, which she still didn't understand – she didn't understand why or how. Then he'd left her. And that was it. She'd been standing in the exact spot he had left her for what felt like hours but couldn't have been more than one.

It was a mind game, she suddenly realized. He knew she was beyond tired, hungry, confused, and scared. He knew that, and he was playing with her. He was probably watching her squirm from some hidden camera with great glee. She felt entirely too dim because it had taken her so long to realize. Everything he was going to do to her would be a game to him. He wanted to see her crack. Well, she decided, her face settling into a grim expression, he'd definitely have to try harder than this.

She felt as though she had been stretched in a million different directions, and she just wanted to sleep and change her clothes. She reeked of the old blood that had stained the previously injured side of her body. She wanted a shower, and she wanted her mother and father, that's what she wanted, but if this freak wanted to see her crack, he was going to have to do a lot better.

Danielle took a deep breath and told herself to remain strong. She didn't know if she had that in her, the strength to survive this, so she would have to fake it. As though settling into a favorite chair, pulling a beloved blanket over her, as though eating a favorite meal from childhood in the most comfortable clothes, she straightened up to attention. It felt natural and right. She slouched like every teenager most of the time, but she had been practicing this since she had been eleven. She had forced her father – her stomach wrenched and her heart bled a little bit – to teach her how to march and stand, and he had indulged her.

Now she was using that knowledge to save her own life. Danielle felt her strength swell and billow in her heart. This was what felt safe. She knew how to stand and walk and turn. Those movements were comfort in a sea of pain. It was a bubble of warmth in the frigid Bering Sea. It was love amidst a whirlwind of hatred.

So Danielle stood at attention, eyes forward but not focused on the plain room she was in. Then she marched a few paces forward, performed a flawless about face, and marched a few paces back. She repeated this over and over. When she stumbled and made a mistake, she did ten push-ups, something she and all of her running mates had to do whenever their times slipped during cross country practices, something she'd hated beyond anything, but it was something she clung to for its familiarity.

This was how she would survive. She would cling to what made her who she was – the Air Force, her love of physical activity, her love of math, her favorite songs and movies, her memories of her family – to survive. If anything became too hard or too frightening, she would fall back into the comfort of what she knew.

But suddenly the empty, dim room seemed an indomitable monster that wanted to eat her, defenseless, helpless her, up. Fear and terror clawed at her skin, making her bleed with fright, and the unknown loomed before her like an evil phantom that wanted to suck out her soul. She was David, and the room and the unknown together was her Goliath, and she felt as though she had forgotten her slingshot.

In that moment, Danielle whispered the only words she could think of. "I am an American, fighting in the forces which guard our country and our way of life. I am prepared to give," she stumbled, "to give my life in their defense."

It was a grim thought. She didn't want to die. She especially didn't want to die here and now, when there wasn't even a reason for it. But the words linked her, an insignificant teenaged girl, to a great history of warriors and defenders, to the men in the trenches of Europe and the deserts of Afghanistan. It supported her failing strength with that which had buoyed thousands. It made her part of something greater than merely herself. It gave her hope. Because if there was one thing her father had instilled in her heart and soul once he recognized what she wanted out of her life, it was six words that she threw all of her hope and heart and soul and mind into:

_**We don't leave our people behind.**_

**...**

Author's Notes: I think this last scene with Danielle is an epic, thrilling scene about the strength of the human race, of people from Earth, and especially people from the United States (I can't help it; I'm biased, haha, and I know of no other people the way I know my own people). She's scared, she's up against incredible odds, she's so unprepared for this sort of thing, but she's determined, she's doing everything she knows how to to survive, she's holding on to what she knows. She's forcing herself to believe. So, we're not just seeing Danielle, I think we're also seeing the very best of what America and Earth can produce. Every group of people will have their idiots and their criminals, but they will also have their heroes and their leaders. Human nature is the same way. We have our flaws and our shortcomings and our plain stupidity, but in a pinch, we often see the great courage, strength, and will we are all capable of. Please review - I'd love to hear what you think.


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